


Woodcraft

by Mischieftess



Series: Catmilla Tails [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, catmilla, late Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischieftess/pseuds/Mischieftess
Summary: Danny is out to make Silas a safer place. She's ready for anything. Or, is she?





	Woodcraft

The woods were not, strictly speaking, inside the normal range of Silas students’ escapades. Danny preferred it that way – before the Summers had started their patrols and warned students away from so-called ‘hot spots’ like the forest, reports of students disappearing into the woods only to be found weeks later, turned inside out with all the softest bits missing, were fairly common. As unfortunate as that would be now, it would also be far too tempting for a certain tiny journalist with an enormous hero complex coupled with a profound distaste for completely justified protectiveness from her friends. Yes, that was mostly Danny, but that wasn’t the point damn it. 

She checked her equipment again. In the backpack, she had flares, a signal pistol, powdered milk, her water canteen, a collapsible cup (for the milk), a tightly-packed sleeping bag, a small tarp, and jerky. On her person, she had waterproof boots, wool socks, thermal underwear, heavy pants, a sweater, a coat, and her beanie. Stuffed in her pockets were baggies of iron nails, salt, breadcrumbs, a flask of fine brandy, a capped insulin syringe full of silver nitrate, and finely chopped garlic. On her belt were her folding knife, stake, hatchet, flashlight, bowie, and quiver. The spool of bright orange signal plastic was accessible in a side pocket of the backpack. She kept her bow strung and ready in her left hand and checked her quiver with her right.

Satisfied, Danny settled her pack and strode out, confidently and firmly, from the sunny late afternoon quad into the shadows. Gotta show the critters strength. 

Breaking new trail for the Summers was the sworn duty of the elected officers, but as the vice president Danny had already done her fair share during the fall. It really was the new Paranormal Outreach Coordinator’s turn, since her predecessor hadn't done much before that unfortunate incident with an obsessive-compulsive mint jelly with mommy issues. But as the nights grew deep and cold, the risk of hungry _things_ creeping out from their hideaways to snatch soft, unwary college students was weighing too heavily on Danny’s mind, and she worried that someone else would do it wrong. So she was here, just within sight of the manicured lawns of Silas’s campus as she walked ever deeper. She glanced back now and again to see the green gleaming weakly under the winter sun.

The woods were silent, dormant in their dim, cold sleep. At almost fifty yards inside, Danny hadn’t sensed or heard anything around her among the trees. Her amulet was silent, the iron unreactive in her pockets, her silver earring only slightly cold against her ear. She shouldered her bow and switched to the hatchet, clearing a line of sight to the campus. She hacked at brush and fallen tree limbs, the detritus of a stormy fall (courtesy of the Silas Glee Club, whose director had discovered new storm songs and had them practicing nonstop for the annual Necromantic Celebration Gala coming up on the first full moon following the vernal equinox).

Hours later, as twilight deepened the gloom, Danny had cleared a good bit of the forest edge. She was sweating in her layers, the pack and bow long set aside. She straightened from the pile of detritus and arched backward, closing her eyes, stretching out her spine, and turning her face to the hidden sky. Just a little more to go. She sighed and opened her eyes. Bright, green-gold irises stretched around huge, round pupils stared back at her from the shadows draping a tree limb not 10 feet above her head. She yelped, jumping backwards, and fell flat on her back as the leaf litter slid away beneath her boots.

The wind rushed out of Danny’s lungs in an aching whoosh, but she didn’t pause, scrabbling in the dirt, desperate to get back on her feet as her training kicked in. Down is how you die, down is how you die, get up get up get up. She pushed up and grabbed the dropped hatchet, still groping for the bowie, and got her eyes back on that tree as she yanked the knife free with her left hand.

Nothing. There was nothing there. She panted shallowly in anxious discomfort as she spun around to the left. Nothing. Right. Nothing. Up. Nothing.

She cursed under her breath in a steady stream, spinning in a slow circle, but there was nothing there. Minutes passed. Her items of power lay still. 

Maybe she simply imagined it. After all, if it was a predator, it would have leapt when she was flat on her back like a foolish initiate. Maybe the stress of this year, the burden of responsibility, the almost…something with Laura, that damn vampire, maybe it was all getting to her.

She looked at the tree. Imagination. Right. It was time to go, anyway. No one stayed in the woods long after dark, not even a heavily armed Summer. She tied up the last signal flag to that damn hallucinatory tree, shouldered her pack, and marched back toward the house.

Halfway back toward the open air, a prickle danced across the back of Danny’s neck. She stopped, swinging around and falling into a defensive stance. Nothing. She shook herself, turned, and trotted toward the soft lights of the dorms. She moved efficiently, not hurriedly, nothing to hurry toward…or away from. Nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> (Catmilla quivers in silent, helpless hilarity before she picks up the hidden GoPro she stole from Laura that morning and poofs away into the night)
> 
> Did you find the easter egg?


End file.
